Sherlock The Aftermath
by CourtnayBudd
Summary: A little fanfic I began creating with my lovely friend Daniella. Sherlolly through and through. Smutty and lovey-dovey. We get to see a new side of Sherlock that he doesn't exactly understand, but one that John's ecstatic about! Have fun! Leave reviews!
1. Re-uniting

After Johns visit to Sherlock's grave , he knew he wouldnt be able to return to the flat anytime soon. Instead he got into a taxi and asked to be taken to every place he and Sherlock had gone together. Sherlock watched as John climbed into the Taxi after he composed himself. Tears began to sting at the back of his eyes. 'I don't cry', he chided himself. But he couldnt help it, one tear rolled down his cheek. 'I can't tell him anything, not now. Not while the assasins are still in the country'. A month. He decided. He'd give himsefl a month at least before he introduced himself to the world again.  
After John's long Taxi ride, he had to go back to the flat to begin boxing Sherlocks things. When he reached the door he stroked the gold numbers and letter. 221B. He sighed and thought, 'This is where we began, and where we ended'.  
His lips quivered as his fingertips met the door knob. "Not in public", he whispered as he pushed through the door. He let it slam shut behind him as he dragged himself up the stairs. His cheeks began to burn and his eyes stung. He felt his body crumble halway up the steps. His body was racked wiith heaving sobs. He let out every ounce of sadness he'd ever kept inside. He cursed Sherlock and his stupid decisions. He cursed himself for letting himself believe in him. He cursed himself for still believing in him.  
Feeling hopeless, John fell into bed. That entire night he didn't sleep; no matter what, the fact that Sherlock was dead didnt fit rihgt in his head. The next morning he heaved himself out of bed, but as he did, he was crippled with pain, his limp had returned. He hobbled over to the corner of his room where his cane had been stored months ago, when he'd first met Sherlock. Sherlock really had made his life better. Only one thought passed through Johns head that day, "Sherlock can not be dead".  
Sherlock walked through the city keeping to the back roads and alley ways. He stripped himself of his scarf and jacket and traded them to a homeless man for his. Though dirty and disgusting, he could afford to be noticed. He hacked away at his hair with a knife he'd acquired, ridding himself of his iconic black curls. He'd live on the streets until he thought it was safe enough to return to John. QUite suprisingly his homeless network didn't recognise him. He was kind of glad, he got to live in the background, unnotice. He kept catching himself wishing he could return to his normal life. As much as he despised ordinary people, he couldn't help but love his. Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, John. John. Molly. John. His mind was stuck on those two. Molly and John. That was all he could think. He loved them. More so than he ever thought possible. This was going to be a long, cold month.  
Sherlock's mind was incredible, able to deduce anything from anything, but it was not patient. Sherlock needed to let someone know he was alive. But John was in the most danger from the assassins. Molly! He could tell Molly. Slowly travelling through the the allies he found his way to Saint Bart's. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.  
"This is where I died", he said to himself. He walked up the stairs and through the cold hallways to Molly's office. "What am I going to tell her?" He muttered. "Molly will know what I'm trying to say anyways, she always does".  
He tapped on the door three times. A moment passed. Three more. "Yes! I'm bloody coming!" Molly's voice sounded thick and dry, like she's been crying. The door swung open, "What do yo-" She began, but when she saw Sherlock she froze. She was speechless. A first for Molly.  
"Hello Molly", he breathed.  
"So, you're real then?" Her hand flew up to her mouth, "I'm not hallucinating?"  
"No I'm real", he smiled, "Listen, I need to tell you -"  
*SMACK*  
A sharp pain began radiating from his cheek. His hand brushed over it and he realised what happened. Molly had just slapped him. He looked down into her eyes, they were filled with rage. And happiness. But mostly rage. "Molly..." He started.  
"You're an idiot!" She shouted. She looked past him to see a man walking at the end of the corridor, "Get in here before someone else sees you!" She grabbed his jacket and pulled him inside before slamming the door behind them.  
"Did you see what you did to John? You should be ashamed!" Molly yelled.  
"Molly, calm down! I didn't have any other choice. Moriarty threatened to kill everyone I loved if I didn't die. And don't you ever think that I didnt consider the repercussions!"  
"Oh Sherlock. You did what you could. But, when are you going to tell John?" Molly whispered.  
"Once the assassins leave the country".  
"We missed you so much", she sighed, "I missed you so much".  
She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. His mind went completely blank, for the first time in his life, he couldn't think anything. He wrapped his arms around her too and wrested his head against hers, breathing in her scent. After a little while, Molly stepped out of the embrace and pressed a hand to her nose. "Sherlock. I hate to be rude, but..." She paused, "You smell absolutely foul!"  
"I know", he sighed, "I had to trade my scarf and jacket to a homeless man. Not to mention I haven't taken a shower in a week".  
"That explains a lot. You can come over to my flat and get washed up. I mean, if you like", Molly said.  
"That'd be great Molly, thank you", Sherlock and Molly walked down to her car. All He could think about was John, all alone in their flat.  
She opened the door to her flat, "Uh, mind the mess", she half laughed. They walked in and instantly Sherlocks nose was filled with her smell, a mixture of rose and the lily shampoo she uses. A few items were misplaced around the apartment, the coffee table was filled with tissues and sad movies. "Showers through there", she pointed to a door at the opposite end of the flat, "I can wash your clothes if you'd like" she added.  
"Oh yes, of course", Sherlock shrugged out of the borrowed jacket and scarf. He began unbuttoning his shirt revealing his pale chest, he unzipped the fly of his pants and he half closed the door of the bathroom behind him. He slipped his pants and underwear outside the door. Molly realised she had forgotten to look away.  
While Sherlock showered Molly took all his clothes to the wash. As she walked past the bathroom she heard Sherlock humming his favourite violin song. Her thoughts were a big jumble of 'Thank god he's alive' and 'How could he do this?' Pulling her out of her thoughts she heard Sherlock yelling for a towel. she slipped him a blue one through the crack in the door.  
"Thank you", he went back to his humming.  
He attempted to dry his hair with the towel, grimacing in the mirror at the wild way his hair was growing back. He wiped himself down and wrapped the towel around his waist, securing it so he could wear it whilst his clothes were washing. He stepped out of the bathroom and took a seat on the lounge. Molly poked her head out of the kitchen, "Would you like a-" she gasped, clearly forgetting that she'd taken his clothes. She stammered for a minute or two, eventually finding her voice, "Would you, er, like a cup of tea?"

John was sitting alone on his chair in flat 221B. Even sitting there made him want to cry. He needed to get out of the house. The only place he felt like he could manage was Molly's, someone who could understand what was happening. He walked outside and called a cab. While driving, John called Molly. "Hey, Molly. How's it going? I hope you don't mind if I stop by?" He asked.  
"Oh no! That's fine!" She replied.  
"Okay, I'll be over in a few", he hung up.  
"Molly!" Sherlock yelled.  
"What?"  
"I can't be here while John's here! He can't know yet! He'll be in danger!" He could feel the worry bubbling in the pit of his stomach.  
"But, why can I know and John can't? John's more important than me, he should know the secret!" She dropped her head.  
Sherlock lifted himself off the couch and walked over to her. He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head so her eyes met his, "Molly, you're the one person I can trust with everything. You are so much more than important to me", He looked towards the front door, "I won't have time to leave before he gets here", his eyes flickered down to Molly's hand resting on his bare chest, he smirked a little, "Added to the fact that I don't have any clothes and it's looking pretty desolate".  
"Here, um... just go... Hide in the closet. When he leaves I'll come get you". She pushed him towards her bedroom.  
"Molly", he turned to look at her.  
"Yes?" She breathed. "Thank you", he smiled and shuffled to the closet. He closed the door behind him, it smelled of perfume and new shoes. He walked into a little corner. About five minutes later her heard the doorbell.  
"Hey Molly", John smiled as Molly opened the door.  
"Hey John, how you holding up?"  
"Pretty well yeah, most of Sherlock's things are in boxes, we aren't actually sure what to do with them", he sighed.  
"I can alwasy take some of the science equipment off your hands, and God knows we could use some new things th the lab", she pointed out.  
They both went quiet for a while, just happy to have company I suppose. When suddenly they just pulled each other into a tight hug. John sobbed silently on Molly's shoulder, while she just held him, happy to help. That was Molly.  
Sherlock couldnt take it anymore he had to tell John! Hearing him cry, burnt his heart, just like Moriarty said. Quietly, he walked out of the closet and into the living room. "John..." He breathed.  
"Sherlock? WHat the Hell?!" Molly exclaimed.  
"I'm not hallucinating am I?" John asked.  
"No he's real", Molly said as she glared at Sherlock. "Why the hell did you pretend to die? And why don't you have any pants on... Again?!" John asked, still trying to figure out if he was real.  
Sherlock explained his predicament to John while Molly made them all tea.  
"So, how did you do it?" John asked.  
"Do what?" Sherlock said, taking his and Johns tea from Molly. "Fake your death".  
"I can't tell you everything John", Sherlock winked at Molly.  
"Oh my gosh! That makes so much sense now!" Molly exclaimed.  
"What does?" John yelled.  
"All the missing blood bags! She sat her tea on the table, "Over the past or so, we've lost like sixty blood bags!"  
"I needed to make sure it would work", Sherlock smiled.  
"Sherlock, you're still exactly the same, absolutely insane", John took a sip of his tea, "How're we supposed to go back to our normal lives?"  
"Exactly, we don't", Sherlock said.  
"I still hate you", John grimaced.  
"Oh. no you don't" Sherlock replied in a flirty manner.

"I'm actually surprised you didn't punch him!" Molly said to John.  
"Oh, it crossed my mind once or twice", John said through her teeth.  
"I was pleasently surprised too!" Sherlock smiled.  
"So. Are you coming back to the flat?" John lifted himself up off the couch.  
"I can't John".  
"Why the hell not?" He raised his voice.  
"Our flat is too central I can't risk the hit men still being in town", he paused, "If Molly will let me, I'd be staying here with her for a while".  
"Oh um, wait what?" Molly stammered.  
"Oh Molly don't act like you don't know. You know the assassins are around and if they know I'm alive, they'll kill you and John." Sherlock replied.  
"Why does she know and I don't?! Is she better than me now? Is that it, Sherlock?!" John yelled.  
"I couldnt tell you or else you'd have been shot John. Right there, on the spot. I was only told minutes before my 'death'. Why would you even say something like that, john?!" Sherlock screamed back.  
"I-I-I don't know. I can't take this. I-I'm going home", John said as he got up to leave, "Thank you for the tea, Molly". Sherlock and Molly just watched as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

"Well that was... Interesting?" Molly said breaking the silence.  
"You could say that..." Sherlock slumped back in the lounge.  
"So you're staying here then?" She sat on the chair opposite him. "Yes, I'll have John bring my things over tomorrow, when he's had time to calm down". "I think you'd better give him more than a day Sherlock..."  
"I suppose you're right".  
"Well then, off to bed", Molly said quietly.  
"There's another room down the hall you can sleep in".  
"Thanks Molly", Sherlock replied as he walked off to his room.  
"Goodnight"  
"You too", Sherlock went into his room without turning on the light. He felt someting he never had before, emotions. Real life emotions. Swimming around wildly inside him. That's new, he mused. He stripped off his shirt and pants, slipping under the covers, he fell asleep almost instantly. Through the entire night vivid nightmares plagued his mind. It just didn't feel right knowing that John wasnt in the room above his. Though it was comforting to know that Molly was just down the hall.  
His feelings for John and Molly were oddly similar, he'd put them both of them in danger, but he'd gladly die for real to protect either of them.

He woke up to the sunlight beaming through his window, odd though, he didn't feel like he'd slept at all.  
He slipped down the hall, assuming that Molly was not yet awake, but as he stepped into the kitchen she was already awake, doing dishes and making breakfast. "Good morning Molly", he flicked the kettle on.  
"Oh", she gasped as she turned around, noticing Sherlock's lack of clothing, "How- uh- How did you sleep?"  
"...Fine?" He asked quizzically, why did she want to know how he slept. John had never asked.  
"Oh good" She paused, "I, um, heard you in your room shouting last night, I went in to check on you but you were sleeping.."

Now Sherlock felt exactly like John, plagued by lost memories of battles, best left in the past. He slumped down at the kitchen table, lost in thought.  
"Do you want breakfast?" Molly asked, "We have toast, cereal or pancakes?"  
"Huh? Oh, no thanks", Sherlock said pursing his lips and returning to his thoughts.  
"So, what're you doing today Sherlock? Getting John to bring your things around or?" She trailed off.  
"I was actually just going to think today..." He shook his head, "What about you? What're you doing today Molly?" That was strange. He'd never asked about John's day before. He'd never really thought much about it.  
"I'm off today, so no St. Barts, probably just some shopping or something, watch a movie I suppose", she smiled, sitting at the opposite end of the tableto Sherlock, her hair still ruffled from sleep, her pajamas still crinkled.  
"Sounds, uh, interesting", Sherlock cocked his head to the side, where had all of this small talk nonsense come from?  
"Yeah, definitely", she scoffed.


	2. Re-engaging

"So how long are you planning on staying?" Molly asked while she was washing dishes from breakfast.

"I'm not entirely sure yet..." He drawled, like his mind wasn't focusing on what he was saying.

"Helpful", Molly huffed.

"I -" Sherlock began, but immediately dismissed the statement with a flick of his hand.

"You what, Sherlock?" Molly spun around to face him, "You know very well I can't stand when you just stop midway through a sentence!"

He peeked up at her through his eyelashes as she stood over him, a sight she'd never thought she'd see.

"I am sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused by inviting myself into your home", he whispered.

"Sorry?" Molly shook her head, "You've nothing to be sorry for Sherlock, not from my position anyways. You needed a place to stay, I gave it to you. Believe me, you wouldn't be here if I didn't want you to be", she half smiled, attempting to lighten Sherlock's mood.

He looked up at her, "You think you could throw me out?" He chuckled.

"As a matter of fact, yes!" She challenged.

"And how would you go about that!" He sneered.

"You're a male Sherlock, you have one major weakness that we women don't", she smiled. Sherlock smiled too. Her attempts to cheer him up were succeeding.

He stood up suddenly, "Im bored!" He stalked over to the couch and threw himself on it.

"Oh my gosh! You're such a baby!" She teased as she flicked his feet off the end of the lounge so she could take a seat.

He scowled at her, "It's not my fault your flat is so dull!"

Molly shook her head, switched on the T.V. and picked up her book.

"Why do you turn on the television whilst reading Molly?" He hoisted himself up a little higher on the lounge.

"It creates background noise, Sherlock", she hummed and went back to her story.

"A waste of electricity I what it is", he mumbled and turned his head into the lounge.

Molly picked up the remote and switched it off, "Happy now? Gosh, I changed my mind! You're even more of a baby then a baby!"

"Doesn't even make sense", he sniffed.

"If you don't shut up, Sherlock Holmes, I'm going to punch you in the face".

He glared at her for a moment, waiting for her to turn back and take back her threat, she didn't. He attempted to stretch his legs a little, but Molly wouldn't budge. He lifted his legs, as though he were about to rest then on Molly's lap.

"Don't you even dare..." She warned.

He let out an exasperated sigh, "You're worse than John!" He pouted a little before he burst off the couch and headed up the hall.

"Heading to bed already?" Molly sighed, glancing at the clock that only read 10:30 am.

"No, Molly", he turned back to her and leaned on the door frame, "Im trying to think of something to do, since you seem to want nothing to do but make my life boring".

"What do you want me to do?!" She snapped her book shut and set it on the table.

"If I knew that, you'd be doing it!" He shouted.

Molly lifted her self off the lounge and closed the gap between the two, "Did you just yell at me, Sherlock Holmes, in my own home?" She pursed her lips.

"Technically, I yelled to you..." He looked down at her, she stood about a foot shorter than him, but never, had she looked so intimidating.

"Technically? I don't care about your technicalities! You do not yell at me, or too me, in my home! Or you can guarantee you will not be in it for much longer!" She spun on her heel and dropped back on the couch.

"I am sorry, Molly", Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, "I am a guest in your home, and by your recent actions, not a very welcome one. I had no right to do what I did, and I promise to never yell at you again", he walked over and dropped down next to her.

She reached out her hand and extended her little finger, "Pinky swear?"

Sherlock scoffed, but when he looked into her eyes he saw no trace of humour. He hooked his long pale finger with hers, "Pinky swear", he sighed.

She smiled and nodded to herself confidently, she reached down and grabbed her book.

"Sherlock Holmes, reduced to pinky swears", he spat and wrinkled his nose.

Molly was working the late shift at the morgue tonight, hence her reluctance to change out of her pyjamas or do anything productive. Sherlock, on the other hand, was bustling around her flat, rearranging her DVD collection into some kind of order, along with her cutlery draw and her bathroom cabinet. She drew the line at her underwear draw, "A girl deserves her privacy!" She growled at him when he broached the subject.

He flicked his hand at her dismissively, "Nonsense Molly, you seem to be forgetting that I've done several loads of laundry as of late, and have handled baskets full of your knickers!"

She put her face in her hands, "Sherlock, stay away from my underwear drawer".

He huffed and trudged down the hall, she heard him fall onto the bed.

Molly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. How long and she been sleeping? She looked outside and noticed that it was pitch black, SHIT! I'm late for work, she leapt off the couch and ran for her room. She burst in to see Sherlock laying on her bed staring up at her ceiling.

"What're you doing?"

"Thinking", he purred.

"Can't you think in your bed?"

"Yours was closer and quite a lot more comfortable", he faced her, "Can we swap?"

"No we can't bloody swap! No if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for work!" She shooed him off the bed where she'd laid out her clothes.

He leaned against the doorframe, " Don't bother, they rang about two hours ago and explained that they were busy with something else in the lab, you were sleeping", he shrugged at her confused look.

"You didn't let them know who you were, then?"

"Of course not! I'm not stupid!" He scoffed.

"Just making sure! Gosh. Can you leave now? I'm still in my pyjamas..." Molly smoothed her crinkled shirt.

Sherlock held his hands up in surrender and backed out of the room. Molly began stripping off and walking into her little ensuite. She let the steam from the bath water fill the room before she dipped her foot in to test the water, 'perfect', she breathed.

Soaking in the tub was just what she needed. All the built up tension in her neck and shoulders from dealing with Sherlock was released. She sunk into the water, her mind drifting about, conjuring up wild fairy tales.

She must have fallen asleep, because she didn't even hear Sherlock enter her room and walk up to the bathroom door, she only heard his insistent knocking.

"What? Sherlock, what do you want?" She yelled.

"You've been in there for two hours, I was simply making sure you were okay", he said through the door.

"Oh! Two hours really? I must've fallen asleep..." She trailed off as she stepped up out of the bath and wrapped a blue towel around herself.

She thrust the door open and stepped straight into Sherlock, who was apparently still standing at the door. They topple over onto the floor, Molly's face plastered wit shock at first, then pure humiliation. Sherlock just looked amused. Molly pushed herself up off of him and pulled the towel around herself tighter.

"Oh gosh, Sherlock! Sorry! I didn't know you were still standing there!" She blurted.

"No need for apologies Molly", he smirked, standing up and brushing himself off, "That towel does more for your figure than your usual clothes have ever done", and with that he stepped out of her room.

Molly's face turned a furious shade of red. She threw her clothes on quickly and slumped down on her bed, building up the courage to face Sherlock.

She glanced at the clock, 9:45pm. Wow, she really had slept all day! And then another two hours in the tub!

She calmed herself down enough to walk slowly into the lounge across from Sherlock.

"Enjoy your two hour bath?" He chuckled.

"Yes, thank you!" She raised her chin and sit back in the chair, "What're we watching?"

"The news" He looked at Molly, "It's boring".

"It always is", she sighed and picked up her book from the table.

"I think I want my violin", Sherlock pondered.

"And how're you going to go about that?"

"I was kind of hoping you could get it for me?"

"Isn't John bringing your stuff over someday soon?"

"But I want it now", he whined.

She glared at him.

"...Or it could wait..." He muttered.

"Damn right it will", she huffed.

'Where'd my sweet Molly go?' Sherlock thought to himself.


	3. Solving things:

Molly and Sherlock sat watching television until long into the night, well, Molly watched, Sherlock complained.

"I'm going to bed", Molly muttered, frankly getting annoyed at Sherlock's constant commentary.

"Good. You look tired", he looked her up and down and shook his head before going back to yelling at the television.

"What? Nope! Actually, never mind. I don't even care right now, I've slept like sixteen hours today and I'm still tired! I think I'm getting sick", she was more talking to herself now, Sherlock hadn't even stopped yelling. She sighed and walked to bed.

Sherlock gave up on television about an hour after Molly went to bed. The second he turned the television off though, he actually felt tired. That didn't happen often, he normally just made himself sleep when it was necessary and even then it was a struggle. But he was genuinely tired. He dragged his feet as he walked down the hall, he turned into what he thought was his room. Turns out it was in fact Molly's. her small frame shuddered under the blankets, 'She must be having a nightmare' he thought. He sat on the edge of the bed, about to wake her, when a small moan escaped her lips. Not one from fear or pain, but pleasure. Sherlock shook his head and hopped up from the bed, 'Normal people and their primal urges' he scoffed to himself.

"Sherlock..." Molly moaned in her sleep.

Sherlock's eyes widened. She was having a dream about him! His stomach flipped, something he'd rarely experienced. Another gasp slipped out of Molly's mouth. Something in his lower abdomen stirred. Something that could only be described as, arousal? Aroused by Molly? Not the most ridiculous statement. He couldn't deal with that right now, not while he was still snooping around in what was remaining of Moriarty's inner circle. She couldn't be a distraction.

He couldn't sleep. He curled up in his blankets and thought about the way he'd felt about Molly. He'd never felt that about anyone, sure he'd had his natural urges, the way any man did throughout his life, he'd just ignored it, it was an inconvenience. But this felt like something more, something worth pursuing. And who better to pursue it with than Molly. His Molly. He had to admit that he did have some kind of feelings for her, what feelings they were, he wasn't sure. Only one way to fun out.

Molly woke up at 5:00am, se had an early shift this morning on account of her two days off. She showered quickly and wrapped herself up in a thick towel, she shuffled out to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She went back to her room and threw on a grey blouse and a pair of jeans. She returned to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, she'd never liked coffee, but on mornings like this, she needed it.

A few sips into the coffee a rather dishevelled, and very shirtless, Sherlock appeared in the doorway. Molly choked on her coffee a little.

"Good morning Molly", he mumbled, pouring himself a coffee and joining her at the table.

"Good morning Sherlock", she cleared her throat, "You sleep well?"

"Just fine Molly", his lips tugged at the corners, "So did you apparently..." He noticed the confused look on her face, "You, uh, talk in your sleep", he chuckled.

He noticed the emotions on her face, first shock, then horror, then embarrassment. Her face turned scarlet, "Oh?" She said, trying to cover up the fact that she knew exactly what she was dreaming about.

"Flattering, I assure you Molly", he purred with his soft velvet voice that he used when he wanted something from her.

Molly spluttered, "I assure you, Sherlock, that I have no idea what you're on about!" She put her half full cup in the sink and spun around to make a quick exit, so she could spend her next half hour humiliated and hiding in her bathroom, but she ran into Sherlock's bare chest.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, Miss Molly", he smirked, stepping forward so that she was pressed against the counter, and he was pressed against her.

"Sherlock? What're yo-" She was cut off by his soft lips crashing into hers.

Molly was startled at first, but almost instantly melted into Sherlock's frame, she traced his lips with her tongue and he open his mouth and gasped, she took this opportunity to push her tongue into his mouth.

Sherlock felt Moly push her tongue Ito his mouth, he opened his eyes and stared at Molly, her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, her body pushed right against his. Clear signs of arousal. And he was 'aroused' too, to say the least. He flicked his tongue around hers and rested his hand on the small of her back, pulling her body as close to him as he possibly could. She softly ground her pelvis against Sherlock's, making it clear to them both that he was rock hard.

Sherlock pulled back from Molly and stared at her, wide eyed.

"Molly", he breathed, "My sweet, lovely Molly".

"Sherlock?" She giggled and hoisted herself up onto the counter, "You okay?"

"I - Uh - Yeah, sure, just, just give me a minute", he stammered. His mind wasn't reeling as it usually was, in fact it was completely blank. Empty. Molly had cleared his mind, her kiss worked better to dull his constant thought pattern than any drug he'd ever tried. He stepped closer to Molly, staring into her big, brown eyes. Not deducing anything about her, just noticing how beautiful her eyes were.

"Sherlock?" She murmured.

He took a deep breath and closed the space between them. Molly wrapped her legs around Sherlock, her lips hot and wet on his. He gripped her thighs and pulled her closer, pressing himself against her heat. She let out a soft moan at that, only making Sherlock want her more.

She broke away from his mouth and planted kisses along his jawline up to his earlobe, which she slightly grazed with her teeth, sending a shiver down Sherlock's spine. He let out a soft moan and pulled her face back to his and kissed her roughly, his tongue dancing across her lips. He held her thighs tightly and lifted her up off the counter and carried her to the lounge.

He dropped her down and he fell on top of her, her lips feverishly searched his face and neck, she nipped at his neck in places, causing him to growl softly and press himself against her harder.

She moaned and bit down on his neck a bit harder.

"Molly..." He moaned. His fingers moved down to the hem of her shirt and he, reluctantly, broke the kiss and pulled her shirt up over her head to reveal a blue and black lace bra, not at all something he'd expect Molly to wear. He kissed along the edge of her bra, making his way down to her belly button and back up to her breasts. He softly bit the small amount of flesh that spilled out of her bra. She gasped a little and tangled her fingers in Sherlock's hair.

He kissed back up to her lips and massaged her breasts with his hands. She groaned against his lips, sending him wild with arousal.

He was grinding his cock against her and she was making small sounds of approval. Her fingers danced around the edge of his pants, slowly she pushed her hands down to cup his ass, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was not wearing underwear. His hand rubbed their way down to her pants as well, undoing the buttons and the zipper.

Molly shuffled out of her pants and Sherlock flung them across the room, before he went back to kissing her he took a second to look at Molly.

She watched as he looked her up and down, focusing on her lips an breasts.

She subconsciously glanced at the clock, 5:59am. She pushed on Sherlock's chest and slid out from under him.

"Sherlock! I was supposed to have left for work fifteen minutes ago!" She grabbed her pants from the floor, then grabbed her shirt and ran to her bedroom to fix her makeup.

She was looking in the mirror when she saw Sherlock step in behind her.

"Can't you just call in sick?" He mumbled as he kissed her neck, biting and sucking in different places.

"No Sherlock. I can't stay home to keep you occupied, I have a life to get to!" She said and spun around to face him, "I'll be back in six hours", she placed a rough kiss on his lips and rubbed her hand over his still hard cock, "Be ready", and with that she walked out of the room then the apartment.

Sherlock opened and closed his eyes a few times, focusing on his mind palace, but every corner he turned was new and fresh, like he was rebuilding it.

This was a good thing, he was being provided with a new outlook on every case file that had gone cold, every deduction he'd gotten wrong, every missing piece of every puzzle. He threw on his clothes. He knew how to get the assassins out of the country.

"What's that on your neck there Molly?" Stamford asked as she strolled past him when she arrived at work.

"What do you mean?" She self consciously touched her neck.

He pulled a little mirror out of his front pocket, "Never mind why I've got the mirror, you!" He glared at the confused look she gave him. He positioned the mirror so that she could see the massive love bite on the side of her neck. Her face turned bright red.

"Hot date last night, hey, Molly?" He winked and nudged her.

"I - Uh, No! Nothing like that, sort of, I", she stammered on while he laughed and walked away.

She let out a big breath and all but ran to her lab.

Sherlock returned to Molly's flat seven hours after he'd left. He'd placed a note for Molly before he'd gone so she wouldn't worry. He pushed the door open, Molly rarely locked it, and flopped onto the lounge. He could hear Molly humming Schumann's Prelude while she cooked.

Molly heard Sherlock fall on the lounge, she had gotten his note earlier, it had said, 'Dear Molly, I've had a stroke of genius regarding Moriarty's men, be home before nightfall. Sherlock.'

She'd expected that to mean nightfall tomorrow, he never was one for punctuality. She set her slow cooker so that their meal would be ready by dinner time.

She tip toed through the lounge room, assuming Sherlock was asleep by the way he was positioned on the couch.

"Molly?"

"Yes, Sherlock?" Not asleep than.

"Molly, I think I did it", he sat up and looked at her.

"Did what, Sherlock?" She asked a little worried.

"I think I got rid of Moriarty's ring", he smiled.

"Really?" She dove onto the couch next to him and grabbed his hands, "Like, seriously? Gone?" Her eyes lit up.

"I think so Mol", he planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

He laid back on the lounge and she with him. She kissed his lips, softly at first, building up the tension between them. She slipped his coat off then her fingers made quick work of his buttons. His fingers toyed with the button on her pants, undoing then painfully slow. Molly's hips involuntarily moved toward his hand. He chuckled softly, sending a soft vibration through her lips and chest.

"A little eager, are we Mol?" He whispered against her lips.

She moaned in response, slapping his hands away from her trousers and pulling them off herself and straddling Sherlock.

"Molly..." He moaned deeply.


	4. A Long Night

Molly essentially tore Sherlock's pants and underwear off, before he did the same to her underwear. She ground her naked body against his, feeling his perfectly defined chest against her breasts.

Sherlock placed the head of his penis at her opening, she then took control and slid down to take all of him into her at once. He pulled her head down to his and kissed her roughly, then planted kisses all over her face and chest, toying with her nipples with his tongue.

She began slowly moving up and down, Sherlock's mind burst alive, sorting through everything he'd ever thought. He gasped aloud and looked Molly in the eyes. She noticed his eyes looking into hers, but not really, he was looking in his mind.

She continued her movements anyways, he wasn't completely gone to the world.

*knock knock*

They both stopped as the still unlocked door swung open. John stood in the doorway, smiling at first, but then his eyes fell on Sherlock and Molly's naked bodies.

"Shit!" He cried and spun around.

"John! Oh my god! What're you doing here?!" Molly yelled, she attempted to slip off Sherlock but they both ended up toppling onto the floor. Sherlock reached up and grabbed the blanket Molly had draped over the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself and Molly.

"I originally came to give you this, Sherlock!" He turned back to face them, but still had a hand covering his eyes. In the other hand he held out Sherlock's violin.

"Ah! Excellent!" He exclaimed, pulling himself and Molly towards John to retrieve it, "You can open your eyes John, we're both moderately decent", he scoffed.

"Moderately?" He peeked out from behind his hand, "Oh thank The Lord! Sherlock idea of decent is a little askew", he said to Molly.

She laughed, "Um, while this was a lovely little chat, I like to put some clothes on! Mind popping back in about ten?"

"Of course, no, I'll be back soon", he said awkwardly. He closed the door behind him.

Sherlock and Molly both let out a massive sigh. They were huddled together beneath the blanket.

"So... Ten minutes, huh?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She laughed, "I'm sure you can hold out until John leaves", she pushed on his chest lightly, "Now come on, we should get dressed. John obviously had something important to say", she pushed him a little harder until he stepped back out of the blanket. She then curled it up around herself, raised her chin and strutted off into her bedroom. Sherlock chuckled at her dramatics.

He scrambled about the flat looking for all of his clothes in the odd places that Molly had thrown them, he found his pants strewn across the television, one sock under the lounge and his coat was draped over a chair. No shirt though. Brilliant.

"Molly Hooper, where on Earth did you toss my shirt!" He yelled out to her.

Molly stuck her head out of the door, "No clue, you haven't found my pants by any chance?"

"Nope", he sighed.

She went back into her room and grabbed another pair of trousers while he continued to sift through everything in her apartment to find his shirt with no luck.

Molly came out fully clothed and looking proper, only to see a rather dishevelled Sherlock, wearing a pair of pants and one sock.

"Seriously, Sherlock?" She put her hands on her hips.

"This is all I could find!" He dropped to the couch.

"Nope, get up!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, "You are going to look at least half decent for John. Now, Sherlock Holmes, you find your shirt!"

"You sound like Mumm-" his eyes flicked downwards, "Mother... When I was younger".

"Mummy?" She giggled, "Were you, a full grown man about to refer to your mother as 'mummy'?"

He scowled at her.

She burst out laughing, she grasped Sherlock around the waist to keep herself upright, "Oh my goodness Sherlock, I'm so sorry! I think it might be because I've been awake since five, but that is the funniest thing I've ever heard!"

There was an almost inaudible knock at the door, "You guys are dressed now right?" Johns voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Molly wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye and straightened up, "Yes John, well I am anyways", she pushed Sherlock and pointed to his purple shirt under the coffee table.

John peeked into the flat, "Oh thank god!" He sighed.

"Hey John, you want a coffee?" She asked, trying to keep the conversation away from her and Sherlock having sex in front of him.

"Yeah, thanks Molly", he went to sit on the lounge but quickly re-thought his choice and sat on the chair opposite it.

Sherlock buttoned his shirt and flopped onto the lounge, "Thank you for my violin John", he smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, who cares? What the hell is with you and Molly?!" He whispered.

"We talked. We kissed. We had sex. Nothing really", he shrugged.

"Nothing?! Sherlock. I have not seen you take a second glance at a woman since THE Woman, and we all know how that ended up", he sighed.

"Okay, so maybe it was something. But that is between her and I, don't you think John?" He raised an eyebrow at his companion.

John just leant back in his chair. Molly strolled in carrying two cups of tea and set them down, then came back with one for herself.

"Now. John", she sat down next to Sherlock, "What did you want to tell us?"

"That I think I know how to get the assassins out of the country!" He said excitedly.

Molly and Sherlock looked at each other.

"What?" Johns face dropped.

"I may have already done that", Sherlock muttered.

"May have?" He laughed, "Is that humility I hear, Sherlock Holmes?"

"I assure you, it was not", he scowled.

"What did you do to him?" John asked Molly.

"John, you saw what she did to me..." Sherlock smirked before she could reply, Molly's face turned scarlet in an instant. She took a sip of her tea.

"If I'd known that was all it took to calm Sherlock down, I'd of sent him over her a year ago!" John laughed.

Sherlock and Molly laughed too, they all sat around Molly's flat for a good two hours before John decided it was probably time for him to go, it was getting dark and it was difficult to get a cab in this part of the city. He thanked Molly for the tea and Sherlock for having left him with his own flat for a while.

"Picking up where we left off?" Sherlock growled into Molly's neck as John closed the door.

"Oh! Aren't we in a good mood?" He began unbuttoning his shirt and guiding him to the bedroom.

"I have a feeling we're in for a long night", Sherlock mumbled between kisses.

"Longer than any you've had before", Molly whispered as she kissed a trail across his chest.


	5. My Molly

**Hiya! Just wondering if some of my readers might like to leave some reviews? Just wondering what your take is on what happens in this chapter is all. Please and thank you! (:**

**Molly woke up to find an empty bed, she stretched in the tangled white sheets. She brought one up to her chest and wrapped it around her naked body, and went on the hunt for her missing Sherlock. **

She heard the shower turn on, 'Well that solves that mystery' she thought to herself. She flicked the kettle on and poured herself a bowl of cereal. After a few minutes a very wet and very half naked Sherlock padded out into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of tea.

"Good morning Molly", he smiled.

"Good morning Sherlock", she whispered hoarsely.

"I trust you slept well", he smirked.

"The little sleep that I got was nice", she grinned.

"You work today, yes?"

"Yes"

"Excellent. That'll give me time to go to 221B and collect some things"

She narrowed her gaze at him, "Sherlock Holmes. If I come back here to find bits if bodies in my fridge I will not hesitate to punch you in the face".

"Sex makes you violent. Noted", he went back to his tea.

She shook her head, "I'm going to go have a shower".

Sherlock poked and prodded some if the bruises and bite marks Molly had managed to inflict upon him last night. Last night. What had happened? He'd never experienced anything like that, not just the lull in his mind that climaxing had caused, but just being with Molly.

Molly reappeared from the bathroom half an hour later dressed for work. Her hair was pulled into a messy side braid and she wore black pants and a tight purple blouse, much similar to his own shirt. His mouth tugged at the corners.

"What?" She grimaced.

"Was dressing like me intentional? Or completely accidental?" He chuckled.

She looked down at her clothes, "Oh!" She laughed, "That purple shirt of yours is my favourite", she giggled, "Speaking of, where are the rest of your clothes?"

He looked down to his pants ad bare chest, "Are you complaining?" He said slyly.

"No not at all", she stood behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder, "Just curious", she tilted her head and planted a kiss on his cheek, "I'm off to work, I'll be home by dark".

She straightened up and turned to walk away but Sherlock reached out and grabbed her hand, unsatisfied with a mere kiss on the cheek to last him a whole day without her. He pulled her in to a long, deep kiss, from which they both came out breathless.

"Better", he nodded to himself.

She took a deep breath and used every ounce of strength she had to walk out her front door, and not dive right back into bed with Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock delved into his mind palace, re-reading old information. He subconsciously began playing his violin, though it wasn't any of his favoured melodies, it was Molly's. Molly seemed to appear around every second corner, shedding a little light on every file.

Twilight was setting in when he snapped back into reality. The front door squeaked on its hinges.

"Did you go see John today?" Molly asked, setting her hand bag down on the table.

"Hmm? Oh! No, I got caught up... Thinking" He plucked at the strings of his violin.

"Typical", she huffed.

"Bad day at the morgue I presume", he sighed.

"As a matter of fact no".

Sherlock set his violin down, "Really? So why the bad mood?"

"Bad trip home from the morgue", she faced Sherlock and he looked her up and down, she was absolutely drenched! Her lips were turning blue an her nose and fingertips were already a rosy red.

"Molly! You're soaked!"

"A round of applause for the Great Sherlock Holmes everyone!"

"Here. Let me help", he unbuttoned and peeled her shirt off and then he began unzipping her pants.

"This would be a lot sexier if I wasn't freezing my ass off", she noted before her teeth began to chatter.

Sherlock grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and draped it around Molly and then scooped her up in his arms and strode off to the bedroom, "If I was going for sexy, you'd know", he winked as he dropped her onto her bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin.

"I'll go throw your clothes through the wash, want a cup if tea?"

"Sherlock Holmes waiting on me, hand and foot. I never thought I see the day!" She giggled.

"Do you want tea or not", he half sighed, half chuckled.

"I'll be fine in a minute. As soon as I'm warm enough I'll put dinner on, yeah?"

"Yeah", he smiled.

She nestled down into the blankets and closed her eyes. She wrapped Sherlock's, entirely too large for her, coat around her body and soon started slowly drifting to sleep.

Sherlock came back to the room ten minutes later and Molly was fast asleep, he had always pondered over people's fascination with other people sleeping. After watching Molly for a few moments he decided that maybe it was just with watching particular people sleeping. Molly had such odd breathing patterns and movements whilst she slept. She seemed to talk a lot too, after being asleep for just over twenty minutes she'd already yelled, mentioned marmalade and whispered Sherlock's name.

He slipped off his shoes and squished into the bed with Molly, he shuffled her over so that he'd fit too, she had a queen sized bed but managed to take up three quarters of it. The last time he'd slept in the same bed as Molly he'd ended up in foetal position at the end of the bed like a dog, before being kicked off and deciding sleep was probably out of the question. This time though was different, Molly was in a different state of mind, less relaxed and more likely to have more Molly-like dreams. Sherlock decided that watching his Molly sleep was his new favourite pastime.

He shifted his body so that his leg was twisted around hers and his arms held her head to his chest. This was a comfortable position and it allowed him to have more control of her violent outbursts while she slept.

The clock on the night stand read 1:37am. Molly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. How had she slept so long! 'No point getting up now!' She thought. She rolled over to go back to sleep and ended up face to face with a sleeping Sherlock. His eyes flickered behind his lids and his breathing faltered, he was dreaming. She reached up and flattened a lock of curling hair on his head, she laid there and watched him sleep for a little while, he talked in his sleep, he'd called out for her softly at least four times and made some reference to marmalade and falling off a bed. Odd. Her stomach growled, protesting at the fact that she hasn't eaten for twelve hours.

She sat up and flung her legs off the need of the bed, and instantly laid back down due to a massive head spin, 'Brilliant. Now I'm sick' she groaned inwardly.

She slowly lifted herself out of bed and tiptoed through the house attempting to not wake Sherlock, she didn't see him sleep very often and when he did it was only for two or three hours at a time. I suppose staying in his mind palace for six to eight hours at a time would be similar to sleeping.

She scarfed down a bowl of cereal and made herself a cup of lemon tea for her scratchy throat, then sat down to watch television, soon realising that infomercials were extremely boring. She flicked the telly off and headed back to the bedroom. Halfway down the hallway she was doubled over with pain, she bolted for the bathroom and leaned over the toiled bowl just as the contents of her stomach escaped her lips.

Sherlock woke up to the sound of Molly violently vomiting in the next room, before thinking, he burst out of bed and ran to her side.

"Molly? Molly, are you okay? What can I do? How can I help?" He blurted.

"Sherlock. Get. Out." She groaned.

"No! Why would I leave? You clearly need help!"

"Sherlock, the last thing I want you to see if me throwing my guts up curled over a toilet", she said just as another wave of vomiting took place.

Sherlock moved to her side and pulled her hair back out of her face, he gently rubbed her back as she threw up on and off for three hours. Throughout the entire time she went from trying to get Sherlock to leave, to saying she didn't care, to resting on his lap in between bursts of vomiting.

"Sherlock. I'm glad you're a stubborn bastard sometimes", she smiled, clearly a little delirious from the sickness.

"Mhmm, and why's that My Molly?" He hummed stroking her hair.

"Because if you'd left when I told you to I wouldn't have a pillow right now", she giggled, then her face turned completely blank, "Did you just call me 'Your Molly'?"

"And if I did?" He said hesitantly.

"Then I'd say... You're now MY pillow!" She found herself absolutely hysterical, she laughed until she had to stop to throw up again.

"Good Lord Molly! You're worse than a drunk John!" Sherlock teased.

"'Good Lord Molly! You're worse than a drunk John!' Gosh you're annoying sometimes!" She spread her body out on the floor and put her head in Sherlock's lap.

"It's what I aim for. Would you like me to go get you some medication of some sort?" He curled a strand of her hair around his fingers.

"Yes please! Strongest thing you can find!" Her eyes fluttered closed as he replaced his legs with a folded up towel underneath her legs.

He returned with two pills and a glass of water for Molly, only she was fast asleep, and there was no chance he was waking her up, just to sit next to her and be abused for another three hours while Molly vomited uncontrollably. He ducked into her bedroom and pulled a blanket off of her bed. He draped it over Molly and set the water and tablets on the vanity for her when she awoke. He bent down and placed a kiss on her feverish cheek.

"Sleep well, My Molly".


	6. I Love You

Sherlock slipped into his borrowed bed, he didn't see a point in messing up Molly's if she wasn't there with him. He tossed and turned for hours before he gave up and threw the blankets off and trudged to Molly's bed, he got under the covers and grabbed her pillow, wrapping his arms around it, he scent filled his nose and he felt instantly relaxed, but not yet sleepy. He sighed. He pulled the thickest blanket off of the bed and joined Molly on the bathroom floor. He pushed up against her and wrapped the blanket around them both, hoping she'd be well again in the morning.

Molly shivered on the cold bathroom floor, she must have rolled out of the blankets some time during the night, she searched around for them blindly with her fingers, but instead came across a muscly torso, it too, deprived of blankets. She opened her eyes and rolled over to see Sherlock sleeping soundly next to her. The blankets were pooled at his ankles, she reached down to pull them up over them and as she came back his eyes flickered open.  
"Feeling better?" He whispered.  
"More or less, yeah", she smiled half-heartedly.  
"Good" he smiled and closed his eyes.

Molly spent the next hour deliberating whether or not to get off the floor, she knew as soon as she did she'd realise she wasn't sick anymore and she'd have to drag herself to work in three hours. She reached over for her phone, only to see that Sherlock was texting on it.  
"What're you doing?" She slurred.  
"Letting your boss know you're not going to work today"  
"Sherlock, I've had more days off in the last week then I'd had in the past three years!"  
"Well that's hardly my fault…" He sniffed.  
"Oh, I think it's your fault entirely" she rolled back over on her side.  
"Well, I can tell your all back to normal", he leaned over and softly bit her earlobe.  
She turned back to face him and kissed his warm lips, "You will be the death of me, Sherlock Holmes", she pushed herself up against him, he reached around and cupped her ass, pulling her as close as she could possibly get to him.  
"Should we move to the bed?" she mumbled against his lips.  
"Mmph", he grunted in response. He pulled her on top of himself and lifted them both off the ground in one movement. They crashed into walls and bumped into tables on their short little trip to Sherlock's borrowed bed, it was considerably closer to the bathroom then Molly's. They stumbled onto the bed, he lay on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around him.  
"Molly. I'm about to say something to you and I don't want you to react at all", Sherlock whispered, letting himself lean down on top of her.  
Molly stared into his icy, blue eyes, trying to get some kind of read on his emotions, "And that is?"  
"I think-", he paused, biting his lip, thinking of what to say, "I think I love you, Molly Hooper".  
"I-Um-" she began stammering.  
"Shh!" He hissed, stopping her from talking with a quick peck, "I didn't want you to react in any way, I just wanted to know what that would sound like out loud", he smiled softly.  
She gave him a quick peck back, "I hope you know that I'm going to work tomorrow", she said and he raised his eyebrows.  
"Well that's still hours away, My Molly", he smirked, "What could we possibly do to fill the time?"  
Molly giggled as he pulled the sheet up over their heads.

Molly woke up to Sherlock reaching over her and pressing snooze on her alarm, "Sherlock Holmes! How many times have you pressed snooze this morning?" She groaned.  
"This is the third time", he rolled back over, "How on earth you sleep through that is beyond me", she knew that he knew exactly how she could sleep through that, years of living with siblings teaches you how to sleep through anything. She kicked off the sheets in a huff and dragged herself to the shower.  
The warm water warmed her to her core, the steam filling her head and dulling her senses. She sighed, all day in the shower seemed like a pretty good idea. She heard the door open and close softly, through the shower curtain she could see Sherlock's silhouette. He brushed the curtain aside and stepped into the shower with Molly. His hands followed the trickles of water down her chest; he kissed away any droplets that found their way onto her face.  
"While this is amazing, Sherlock", she gasped as he softly bit her neck, "I am still going to work…"  
He pulled away and scowled at her, "You ruin all my fun".  
"I need money. Unlike you I can't go days on end without food!" she laughed and pushed on his chest lightly.  
He huffed and went back to kissing her neck, "Well in that case, we'd better make the most of the time we have left".

Molly shut the door behind her as she left for work; a soft little jab of pain hit him in the chest. What was that? Longing? Did he miss his Molly already? He had never had feelings as intense as the ones he had for Molly for anyone before. Sherlock was in love. He shuddered at the word; that was going to get some getting used to. John seemed to be in love all the time, with a different girl every other week. John. That's who he could talk to about this; God knows Sherlock didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

The taxi pulled up outside 221B, Sherlock closed the space between himself and the door in four long strides. He banged on the door relentlessly until a rather tired looking John swung it open, he looked as though he was about to punch Sherlock in the face. Sherlock glanced down at his phone, it was eight thirty in the morning.  
"Late night was it John?" he said, pushing past him and beginning up the stairs.  
"You know very well it was", he sighed, "Why do you even ask?"  
"I like to be proven right. Now", he clapped his hands together, "I have something I'd like to talk to you about", he bounded up the rest of the stairs.  
John followed him up the stairs slowly, by the time he opened the door to his flat Sherlock had already made himself a cup of tea and had made a nest of cushions and blankets for himself on the couch.  
"Why do you not have a fire or something going John, it's colder in here then it was outside", a brief shiver made its way down his spine.  
"Because I got home at four this morning and only just bloody woke up!" he raised his voice, "Now what the Hell do you want?"  
"I think I love Molly Hooper", he said and stared at John flatly.  
"Oh good Lord, Sherlock", he pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's too early for this".

Sherlock took the last sip of his tea as John brought himself and Sherlock a new cup, "What do you mean 'you think' you love Molly Hooper?"  
"I mean, I don't know what I feel for her, as I have never been 'in love', I just know that I don't really like it", he set his cup down a little too hard, causing it to spill.  
"Jeez Sherlock. How in the Hell did you think I was going to be able to help you?" John asked returning from the kitchen with some paper towel to mop up his spilt tea.  
"You say you're in love a lot? I assumed you'd know something about it. Apparently, I assumed wrong…"  
"Did you just openly admit that you thought wrong?" John raised an eyebrow.  
"About something menial", he said defensively.  
"Since when has that mattered? Wow, Moll's really done something to you", he smirked.  
"That's just it! She's done something! Did I tell you that I had to completely rebuild my mind palace the other morning? Granted, I solved twelve cold cases and vanquished Moriarty's men, but still, that took a lot of time and energy John!"  
"Did you solve the Bull-Character case?" He asked.  
"Yes…" He said slowly.  
"Oh. That's good", John sipped at his tea.  
"John? I thought we were talking about me here?" He threw his arms up in the air.  
"We were. But what you're describing seems to be a good thing! Don't fix something if it isn't broken Sherlock".  
"But… But, I don't know how to do this John", He stammered and mumbled.  
John set his cup down and sighed, "Have you told Molly any of this?"  
"I told her that I think I love her, yes".  
"And what happened then?"  
"I told her to be quiet and then we had sex", he said flatly.  
"Sounds like an alright reaction to me? Besides the telling her to be quiet part of course… At least she didn't freak out or anything. She didn't say it back then?"  
"I asked her not to react. I just wanted to hear it out loud is all, see how ridiculous it felt".  
"And?"  
"Well, it didn't feel ridiculous".  
"Well that's not helpful!" John muttered.  
"Well you're not being very helpful!" Sherlock growled.  
"My advice would be to sit down and have this conversation with Molly, and let her talk this time, yeah?"  
"Thanks for that John, you helped very little", Sherlock smiled and pushed his way out the door and started back to Molly's flat.

Molly had spent her entire day at work thinking about Sherlock, to be completely fair, that was how she spent most of her time with and away from him, but today was different, she wasn't just thinking about how much she liked Sherlock, she was thinking about how much she loved him.

She stepped out of the cab and unlocked the front door to her building, bounded up the stairs two at a time and swung open her front door. The smell of roasting chicken and rosemary immediately filled her nose. She followed the scent to the kitchen and was amazed to see Sherlock bent down to the oven, checking if the chicken was cooked.  
"Sherlock? What did you do?" She asked hesitantly, "You didn't kill my bird did you?"  
He rolled his eyes, "Unfortunately not", he squinted his eyes at the bird cage hung up in the corner of Molly's living room, it was currently occupied by a small finch, "That bird has it coming though".  
Molly giggled, "Then why the meal?"  
"Why not?" he shrugged, "I was bored and you'd be surprised how many cooking shows are on during the day".  
"Oh my goodness, Sherlock", she gasped.  
"What?" He asked a little alarmed.  
"I've turned you into a normal person!" She squeaked in mock horror.  
He chuckled, "You wish!" He spun around and kissed her deeply.  
"Oh!" Molly said a little breathless after he pulled away, "Aren't we in a good mood tonight?"  
He smiled, "Molly Hooper, My Molly, I love you".  
Her hand flew up to her mouth and she smiled, "Am I allowed to react this time?"  
"Of course", he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.  
"Sherlock Holmes, I love you" she stood on her tip toes to reach his face and planted a kiss on his cheek.


	7. A Night On The Floor

"I think the roast is burnt", Sherlock sighed as he rolled over and laid his arm across Molly.  
"Hmm?" She said lazily, "Oh, right! You made dinner", she smiled and wiggled backwards so that she was pressed against him.  
They were lying on the living room floor, apparently neither of them could hold it together long enough the make it to the bedroom. Clothing was strewn around the room and the smell of smoke hung thickly in the air.  
"Someone should probably get that out before we burn the house down", she drawled.  
"Someone definitely should", Sherlock agreed. Neither of them made an immediate move. But slowly Sherlock rolled away, he groaned as he heaved himself off of the ground, using the lounge as support. He pulled the blanket that Molly was covering herself with, off and wrapped it around his waist.  
"Hey!" She protested lamely.  
"Do you want your flat to burn down?" He spun around and raised an eyebrow.  
"Get the bloody roast out of the oven", she scowled.  
She stood up and shivered. She scurried over to the heater and flicked it on before she scooped up her bra and underwear and slipped them on so she felt less exposed.

"Well, that roast is beyond repair", Sherlock stepped out of the kitchen and crossed his arms, "Now what? I was actually looking forward to that."  
"We could always order takeout and get it delivered?  
"Sounds like a plan", he drawled, lowering himself back down to the floor to lay with Molly.  
"Where are my pants?" She asked, "My phone is in the pocket."  
Sherlock felt around on the ground next to him on either side, not even bothering to open his eyes, "I've no idea", he brought his arms back in to his chest.  
"Sherlock Holmes, you help me find my pants right now."  
"You took them off", he argued.  
"You helped!" She snapped.  
He sighed and lifted the blanket off himself; Molly tried, and failed, to avert her gaze from his naked body, "You know…" He began, opening one of his eyes, "Pictures last longer."  
Molly rolled her eyes and snatched the blanket and wrapped it around herself while Sherlock slipped on his pants. The both searched for over an hour for Molly's pants, eventually Sherlock flopped on the couch with a sigh and muttered, "I'm not even hungry anymore."  
"Yes you are, you just don't want to help", she huffed.  
"We aren't going to find your damned pants."  
"I thought you were some kind of genius, Sherlock. Help me find my bloody pants!"  
"Having sex with you clears my mind, Molly! I can't think straight right now, I'm solving cases!"  
"What do you mean?" She sniffed.  
"You sound upset. What did I do wrong?" He jumped out of his seat and stepped towards her, but she stepped back and wrapped her arms around herself tighter.  
"Do you understand what you just said to me Sherlock?" She lowered her gaze to the ground.  
"That having sex with you helps me solve cases, essentially", he went to brush his fingers along her cheek but she moved away, "Did that offend you?"  
"Yes", she sighed, "Yes it did. It sounds to me like you're just using me for sex to help solve the cases you normally were not smart enough to solve."  
"I was smart enough to solve them; I just needed to look at them from a different perspective", he registered the hurt o her face, "But that's not important. You're helping me, Molly. My Molly. I didn't know that sex was going to react with my brain this way, I honestly thought it would do the exact opposite and muddle me up, but I did it anyways. Don't you understand Molls", he lifted her chin up so she could meet his intense gaze, "I was willing to have sex with you, even though it could have ruined the way I worked, the way I was, the only thing I knew how to be. I risked my entire life that I have built to spend one night with you", he kissed her gently once, then again with more force.  
Molly broke away from the kiss out of breath and swaying a little on her feet, "Do you think-" he interrupted her with another kiss, "That we could aim for the bed this time?"  
She felt him shake his head from the spot he'd rested it on her shoulder as he drew tiny patterns with his kisses along her neck. They tumbled to the floor.

Molly woke up wrapped around Sherlock, the entire room pitch black. She had a sharp pain radiating from her lower back, she reached around and realised she was laying on the television remote. She pushed on Sherlock's shoulder softly to try and wake him up, but he just rolled onto his back and snored softly. As much as Molly would have loved to just lay there with her head resting on his chest, she had to work tomorrow, and she knew that would be difficult after spending a night asleep on the floor.  
"Sherlock", she whispered. Nothing, "Sherlock!" She tried again a little louder. Still nothing, "Sherlock!" She yelled.  
Sherlock's arms flew up, followed by his torso, "Vatican Cameos!" He blurted, then rubbed his eyes and turned to look at Molly, "What's wrong?"  
Molly stifled a laugh, "Nothing's the matter", she pressed her hand to his cheek, "We were asleep on the floor and I figured if you wanted to be able to walk properly tomorrow, you might want to hop into bed."  
"Oh! No I'm fine, I'm always fine. Sleep on my table sometimes, John", he muttered sleepily and began to lay back down.  
"Did you just call me John?" She laughed, "Right. Come on", she lifted herself off of the ground and then leant down to start lifting Sherlock, after a bit of coaxing, he eventually agreed to go to bed, if it was in Molly's bed, "Okay, fine, not that you wouldn't have ended up there anyways", she sighed.

Molly woke up in a surprisingly good mood, considering she'd spent half the night on a hard, wooden floor. Sherlock was still snoring soundly next to her, probably catching up on all the sleep he'd ever missed in his life. Molly showered and dressed quickly before making herself a cup of coffee. She sat at the table flicking through a magazine and a short while later Sherlock through the kitchen door.  
"Sleep well did you?" Molly grinned.  
"I had, the weirdest night sleep I think I've ever had", he slurred.  
"I never would have guessed", she giggled.  
Sherlock narrowed his gaze, "What do you mean?"  
"You talked a bit", she pressed her lips together to stop from laughing.  
"What did I say?"  
"You called me John and screamed Vatican Cameos and told me that you've slept on a table…"  
He grimaced and poured himself a coffee, "Well let's hope that never happens again", he blinked his eyes a few times to clear them.  
"I'm off to work in a minute, you need anything from the shops?"  
"No, I'm going to head down later I think, maybe pop over to 221B", he took the magazine from her hands and sat down next to her.  
"Tell John I said hello will you?"  
"'Course."  
"Quick question?" She asked, turning to face him.  
"Yep?" He turned his head towards her, but kept his eyes on the magazine.  
"Have you told anyone else but John that you weren't really dead?"  
"No."  
"Why not?"  
"They might not be safe yet."  
"I thought you said you'd gotten Moriarty's men out of the country?"  
"They're on their way out", he looked at her, "Why?"  
"Well I was just thinking that they might be upset", she looked down at her coffee.  
"I'll let them all know soon, okay Molls?" He leant in and kissed her softly.  
She smiled, "Thank you. I'm off now."  
"Love you", he kissed her cheek, but as she turned to walk away, her grabbed her wrist, pulled her down on his lap and kissed her lips, her neck, her shoulder basically anywhere skin was showing. He let her back up.  
She shook her head dazed, "Lo-Love you too!" She stammered and giggled.  
"Go now, you'll be late."  
She glanced down at her watch, "Shoot!" She ran for the door.

Molly only ended up thirteen minutes late for work, she scampered down the hall to her lab, trying to not be seen so she could pretend she was on time, but just as she rested her hand on the door knob she heard a deep voice resonating down the corridor, "Molly!" _Shoot!_ She scolded herself mentally.  
She spun around to face the plump, older gentlemen behind her, his white shirt and red vest were both to tight, though his navy pants were seemingly large. His balding head was already sweating under his terrible comb over, "Yes sir?" Molly had gone out of her way to try and avoid learning her new bosses name because for the first six weeks that he was here, he'd just call her _doll _or _honey _and insist that she take the easy cases as this was no easy job for a young lady. She'd torn him a new one a few weeks ago and called him a fat, sexist pig, who ought to be ashamed of every part of him. She was pretty proud of herself that day.  
"Molly, would you care to step into my office, we need to have a chat", he started walking towards his office. 'Great!' She thought, 'I'm getting fired!'

**Quick heads up, the next chapter is going to be pretty depressing, lot's of big things are about to happen, some of their old friends will be brought back into it. So, have fun with that! Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the reviews :)**


	8. The Suicide

**Sorry for the short chapter, I had to take 'cry breaks' -.- Anyways, enjoy! And let me know what you think! :)**

"What's wrong?" Molly asked as she sat down in the small plastic chair in her boss's office.  
"I've just been given some, uh, unfortunate news to relay to you…"  
Molly's heart tightened in her chest, "Which is?" She squeaked.  
"Greg Lestrade has committed suicide Molly."  
Molly gasped and her hands flew to cover her mouth, "What?!" She yelped.  
"I'm so sorry for your loss Molly", he hang his head.  
"Oh no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. But, Sherlock-" She paused and her hand clutched her chest, "Oh my God! Sherlock! Oh no!" Her eyes stung with tears.  
"I understand completely if you need to leave, spend a week or so at home…" he trailed on, but she wasn't listening. She silently lifted herself out of the chair and walked out the door, she hastily wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt before she walked through the lobby of Saint Bart's, she vaguely heard a few people ask what was wrong and where she was going. She couldn't remember leaving the hospital or how she got home, she did remember opening the front door of her apartment building and getting half way up the stairs before she bumped into someone, she managed a muffled "Sorry", and went to continue walking, but the person grabbed her arm. She turned around to yell at them to let go, but she ended up being face to face with Sherlock.  
"Molly? Molls? What's wrong? What is it?" He pulled her into his arms and started stroking her hair.  
Her body instantly melted into his and he could feel her entire frame being racked with heaving sobs, they collapsed onto the steps and held each onto each other, for what seemed like dear life.

Molly cried for at least ten minutes before she could even begin to speak legibly, "Sherlock, he's gone", she whispered, "He's properly gone."  
"Molly, who? Who's gone?" He began to panic.  
"Lestrade", she pushed away from Sherlock's chest, his eyes brushed over her tear streaked face and her clenched fists. He knew that she was telling him the Greg Lestrade was dead.  
"What? How? When?" His emotion began to leak into his voice.  
"He killed himself Sherlock, he did it. I don't know why! I don't know!" Her voice became muffled again as she buried her face in his coat.  
He rested his head on hers, the few tears that he'd let fall had dampened a spot on her hair. They must have sat there for hours, neither of them wanting to move. They'd ignored phone calls; people walking up and down the stairs around them, the rest of the world had just melted away while they sat there in each other's arms.  
Someone came running up the stairs, Sherlock and Molly didn't know, or care, who it was until the person sat down in front of them, "Room for one more?" A familiar voice whispered hoarsely.  
They both looked up to see John crouched down on the steps below them, his head resting in his hands.  
"John-" Molly choked, and she unhooked her arms from around Sherlock's body and wrapped them around Johns. His body tensed at her presence, but eventually relaxed and it too was heaving with silent sobs. Sherlock shuffled down a step and sat with his body pressed against Molly's, he rested his head on the shoulder that John wasn't occupying and they all sat there, quietly crying at the loss of their friend.

"The funeral is this Friday", John said stiffly after about an hour, "Also, Molly, I believe they were planning on sending his body to your morgue, I think he mentioned that he wasn't to be sent anywhere else in his note".  
"His note?" Sherlock asked.  
"Hmm? Oh, yes, he wrote a note when-", he paused, "Well, there's a note that he left."  
"I need to read it", Sherlock stated.  
"What?" Molly and John said simultaneously.  
"I need to know why…"  
"Sherlock, I…" John stoped, looking for the right words, "I don't think you should."  
"John. Please stop, I know why he did it, I think… I just need to be sure".  
"Well I don't!" Molly protested, "Sherlock, why-"  
"Sherlock please don-" John started, but Sherlock stopped him.  
"Molly. How about we go upstairs?" Sherlock suggested.  
"When you tell me", she unwrapped her arms from around John and moved to him, "Sherlock? Please", she slipped her arms under his coat and hooked her fingers behind his back.  
"Upstairs, Molls, now. Please."  
"If you tell me when we get up there."  
"You're so stubborn."  
"Was that a yes?"  
"That was a 'Do I really have a choice?'"  
"Whoa!" John blurted.  
"What?" Molly asked.  
"You are the only person I've ever met who could comfortably hug and break the Great Sherlock Holmes at the same time", he smiled.  
Sherlock and Molly smiled too, they all got to their feet and trudged up the stairs, Molly fished around in her pockets for her keys while Sherlock wrapped his arms around her neck and shoulders and rested there.

Molly poured three cups of tea and after a small, but intense argument with Sherlock, while John sat back in the chair and look astounded, she decided she was going to find out why Lestrade had died from his note that she was probably going to get in evidence anyways.  
The argument had ended with Sherlock yelling, "Well you do that then!" And pouting as he stormed off into her bedroom.  
"Sorry", she sighed to John, "He'll be back out in a minute", she pointed to his tea cup, "He can't have a good sulk without tea."  
John just shook his head in amazement.  
"What?" Molly puzzled.  
"You", he chuckled, "You've got Sherlock wrapped around your little finger!"  
"That a bad thing?"  
"It's just an odd thing to see. I could barely even get him to pick up some bloody milk!"  
"He offered to go shopping today, in fact last night, he tried to cook! But, we… got distracted…"  
John just blinked and stared into his tea, "He loves you, you know."  
"I know", she breathed.  
"Don't", he scrunched up his face, "Don't let him hurt you Molly."  
"I won't John", she whispered, "He needs me just as much as I need him."  
"No doubt."


End file.
